


you must be fireproof

by LouLa



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Carter Hart: thoughtful angel in the streets will destroy you in the sheets, Claude's wayward home for omegas in heat, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scenting, Self-Lubrication, TK and Patty being horny in the background what else is new, Unexpected Heat, secretly an exposé on how everyone should love Kevin Hayes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:30:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22214593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouLa/pseuds/LouLa
Summary: Carter is sitting in his stall, repetitively bouncing a ball from hand to hand, when G squeezes in next to him. Carter doesn’t stop what he’s doing until G leans closer, sniffing at him.“What,” Carter demands, annoyed at the interruption.G doesn’t say anything, just leans behind Carter and sniffs again. Carter turns to watch him as he reaches into the back corner of Carter’s stall and pulls out a crumpled up pair of underwear, holding them out by one dainty finger.They’re Kevin’s, Carter can tell by smell alone which had definitely been the point. Carter knew they were there, Kevin’s scent permeating the area around his stall for a couple of days, but he hadn’t bothered to move them.(Or, Carter gets called up, goes into heat, goes through it, and gets a mate.)
Relationships: Carter Hart/Kevin Hayes, Claude Giroux/Carter Hart
Comments: 27
Kudos: 395





	you must be fireproof

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Mathab, the actual love of my life.
> 
> Title from Fireproof by One Direction
> 
> All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Leaving a warning here for dubious consent simply due to the fact that nothing is discussed prior to the onset of heat, but rest assured that everyone involved is an enthusiastically willing participant.

One of the first things that happens when Carter gets the call up—expected to be making his first start with the Flyers soon—is Claude Giroux introduces himself as though Carter doesn’t know exactly who he is. They’ve met in passing, training camp and team sanctioned events, but Claude tracks him down as soon as Carter walks into the building, stretching out his hand in offering and saying, “Carter, welcome to Philly, I’m Claude Giroux. Call me G.”

Carter doesn’t stutter, but it takes him a second to collect himself. He says, “Hey,” cringing a little at how breathy in comes out, obviously star struck, and slides his hand into G’s. “It’s really great to be here. Thank you.”

G smiles and holds onto his hand a little bit longer. The omega part of Carter that’s always there, watching and waiting for any opportunity to make itself known, thrills at the attention, but it’s not just the instincts of wanting positive attention from an alpha, it’s _everything_. He’s Claude Giroux, the captain, one of the most prominent alphas in the league. It’s being here, being called up, on the cusp of his first NHL game. All of it. It would be overwhelming if this wasn’t exactly what Carter has been training and preparing for his whole life.

“I need to have a little talk with you, if that’s okay,” G says, still focusing on Carter intently.

“Yes, of course,” Carter agrees easily.

He leads Carter back to an empty training room, walks with the gentle pressure of his hand on Carter’s back, closes the door behind them. In private, he curves his palm around the back of Carter’s neck and guides him to sit.

Carter doesn’t hear a word he says after that.

—

It hits him the second he walks into the locker room, a wall of scent that makes his stomach clench tight and his skin flush hot.

“Whoa,” he utters lowly, stumbling forward when someone knocks into him from behind. Everything gets somehow even brighter, sharper, more devastating when a rough hand grabs at his shoulder.

Big arms wrap around him, squeezing. “Hey, buddy, good to see you.”

The whole room smells like sex. Thick, cloying, all-encompassing. Like _bonded_ and _mate_ and _love_, like sex because it matters and fucking because it’s vital. It’s so heady, overpowering in its richness that Carter staggers as soon as he’s let go.

“You okay?”

Forceful hands push him to sit on a bench and heat blooms across every inch of Carter’s body. He has just a moment to think _oh no_, and then G is there again, right in his face, sighing.

“Kid, I told you. I told you.”

Carter whimpers—fucking whimpers—in the face of his captain.

“Come on.”

G isn’t big, not bigger than Carter anyway, at least height wise, but he’s strong, pulling Carter to his feet and pushing him out of the main locker room, to an empty room again, closing them in together. Another whimper escapes him when G urges him down into a chair, standing over Carter, so close.

“How long have you got?” he asks, palm pressed to Carter’s hot cheek. Carter leans into it, lips parting to get G’s thumb into his mouth, sucking at it. “Oh,” G says, quietly. “Okay, okay. I’ve got you.” He smooths his other hand through Carter’s hair, lets Carter continue to mouth at his thumb, soothing himself. Distantly, he realizes G is cursing in French, _fuck fuck fuck_, over and over again. “I just have to get you out to the car, okay? Then we’ll go home and get you taken care of, is that okay, Carter?”

Carter nods, G’s thumb pressing down on his tongue, and he hums, starting to squirm.

G walks him out of the building, arm tight around his waist to keep him held close, a solid, protective weight at Carter’s side. G gets him in the passenger seat, and Carter shivers, watching him jog around the front to the driver’s side. His hand comes up to Carter’s neck as soon as he’s in, reassuring, kneading at the tension there. Carter leans into it. At a stop light, G nudges his fingers into Carter’s hair, rubbing up his neck, into his hairline, back down again, a steady pressure. He can feel himself starting to get wet.

“Sorry,” he whispers, embarrassed, hunching in on himself. He hasn’t had a heat come on like this in years, a sudden intensity, with absolutely no warning, no predictability. He tries to blink past the haze of it, calm himself down from the want that’s clawing its way through him. It’s a rush of hormones, and he’s normally got better control of himself than this. What an impression to make on his first call up to the show, he’s supposed to be a professional.

“It’s okay, kid, come here,” G says, urging Carter’s head toward him, to his shoulder. It makes Carter feel so _young_, the reassurance, G calling him _kid_. Carter leans into him, clutching at the center console. He needs skin contact and presses his face into G’s neck, breathing in his calming alpha scent. “We’re almost there,” he promises, sliding his hand down Carter’s back, just under his shirt to grip at his side.

Carter shudders, pressing his palm to the front of his pants, his cock hot and heavy trapped behind too many layers. He latches onto G’s neck, lapping at his throat and sucking on any skin he can reach. G’s scent, his taste blooms across Carter’s tongue, suffuse heat thrumming through him, filling him with need. “We’re almost there,” G repeats, but Carter is pretty sure he’s saying it to himself this time.

As soon as G pulls into the garage, door sliding closed behind them, throwing them into darkness, it really hits Carter and he whines, trying to climb across the car to get into G’s lap. He needs something inside him, anything, and he needs it now.

“Easy, easy,” G murmurs, pushing him back with gentle but strong hands. He’s so good—firm but careful, like an alpha should be. It makes Carter frenzied with how bad he wants him. “Wait,” G commands, and Carter has no choice but to not move, just watching as G gets out of the car, crosses around the front to Carter’s side, opening the door to guide him out. “Inside,” he says, the same flat tone that leaves no room for argument. Carter would do anything he says.

Trouble is, he gives Carter no further orders to follow and once they’re through the door, inside, Carter sets his knees to the floor, obstinately kneeling in front of G, and paws at the front of his pants to get his cock out. G sighs, plants his legs a little wider, and lets Carter do what he wants, calmly carding his fingers through Carter’s hair. Carter gets his lips around G’s cock, at once soothed by the feeling of being filled but all the more needy where he’s still empty, clenching around nothing. He whimpers, looking up at G, swallowing him down deeper, desperate.

“Fuck, look at you,” G says, thumb sliding over Carter’s lips where they’re stretched around him. Carter chokes, trying to take him all the way in, and G uses his alpha tone again, tells Carter, “Careful,” as he pulls out of Carter’s mouth. Carter tries to chase him, but G has a hold of his jaw, thumb wiping over his lips to clean him up. Carter licks his thumb, drags his teeth over the pad of his finger, staring up at him. G growls. “I’m going to fuck you.”

Carter tries to get a hand down the back of his pants, because _yes_, that’s exactly what he wants, but G grabs his arm roughly, stopping him. He pulls Carter up to his feet, starts urging Carter through his house, to the stairs, and Carter trips on his rush to get up them, G a steady pressure behind him. He wants to rip his clothes off, do it right here on the stairs, but G doesn’t let him stop, keeps him moving forward until they’re finally in a bedroom. It smells like G, calming, alpha, a brisk winter breeze through a forest with the undertones of warm spice. He arches into G behind him, grinding against him, shuddering.

G strips him naked, quick and efficient, then pushes him toward the bed. Carter crawls his way to the middle, watching over his shoulder while G gets undressed, spine dipping to present himself even further when G knees his way onto the bed behind him. G touches his thigh first, fingers gliding through the slick on his skin, wet as he is.

“I’d ask if you’re ready,” G starts, palming both of Carter’s ass cheeks and spreading them wide, “but—”

“I’m ready,” Carter rushes to assure him.

G chuckles softly, thumbing over Carter’s hole, a tease. Carter thrusts back against him, desperate to get him inside already. “I can see that.”

“Come on then,” Carter begs.

G grinds forward, the whole length of him sliding over Carter’s opening, a promise. Carter feels himself get wetter. “Oh, fuck,” G groans, the head of his cock finally nudging where it needs to go. Carter leverages back, opening up around him, slowly, so slowly, taking G’s cock. Carter drops from his hands to his elbows, and then down to his chest, feeling the stretch through every inch of his body. G grips his hips, pressed thigh to thigh with Carter, in him as deep as he can go. G reaches around Carter, squeezing his cock, thumbing over the head.

“Oh,” Carter gasps, surprised when his first orgasm rips through him, leaving him shaky, gasping into the bedding under his mouth. It doesn’t even take the edge off, still desperately grinding back on G behind him. His whole body feels heavy with heat, a fire under his skin, hunger deep in his body, and he whines, rubbing his sweaty forehead on G’s blanket.

G waits until he stops shaking and then slowly slides most of the way out before slamming in again. Carter grunts, chasing the feeling every time G starts to pull out, and relishes in being filled back up when G fucks into him with enough force to rock his whole body forward.

“You’re so good,” G says over and over, fucking into him, and Carter comes again with those words pressed into his skin.

“Knot me,” Carter pleads, still trembling through the last rush of his orgasm. He needs it now, just fucking isn’t going to be enough. He needs to be held down and stuffed so full that he can’t move. He’s almost choking on the desperation.

“Getting there,” G promises, sounding strained.

Carter feels a finger nudge at him, pressing in alongside G’s cock. It’s a little better, almost full enough. Almost but not quite. He gasps at the stretch, pushing back into it again. G keeps it up for a while, finger and dick slowly working in and out of him. Carter shifts, restless. His thighs burn, his stomach is throbbing with tight pain, his nipples hurt from rubbing against the blanket, too aroused. His arms are tingly, pinpricks into his fingertips, under his nails, every inch of his body pulsing with need.

“Hold me down,” he cries, the ache almost unbearable, back arched hard enough to hurt, pressed back as firmly as he can on G buried inside of him. “Hold me down, knot me. I need it.”

“Okay, okay,” G whispers, petting down Carter’s sweaty back. He feels like he’s overheating, melting out of his skin.

G eases him down until he’s flat on the bed, biting kisses into his shoulder. He uses his whole body to hold Carter down, weight pressing him into the bed, one arm wrapped around Carter’s chest to really keep them held tightly together. Carter has never felt this hot before, suffocating on it, throat tight with it. G’s grinding into him, gasping close to Carter’s ear. Carter’s going to come again, he can feel it twitching through him, building, cock pinned between his stomach and the bed, a spark of pleasure every time G ruts down against him. He can tell G’s almost there, his knot swelling up, tugging at Carter’s rim with every movement, and he wants to come around it, fights to hold it off, burning through it.

“Fuck, Carter,” G grits out, somehow pressing Carter down all that much harder, all that much better as he stills, thick knot going rigid as it fills Carter up. His teeth sink into the back of Carter’s neck, and Carter quakes with it, clenching around G’s huge knot, come slicking G’s sheets. It goes on forever, rushing through him in waves until he can finally breathe, going still, no longer burning.

“Oh,” he sighs, long and relieved, relaxing. G’s knot feels big enough to break him, but it’s as comforting as G’s weight on top of him. He’s never been filled up this tight before, and he likes it.

“Good grief, kid,” G breathes, huffing a quiet laugh against Carter’s shoulder.

“Mm,” Carter agrees. Maybe he’ll be embarrassed later, but he’s still laden with hormones and it’s hard to care when everything feels this good. He can feel the rumble of pleasure in his chest, and he knows G will be able to feel it too, against his palm still caught under Carter’s body, the soft purr of a gratified omega.

“That good?” G asks, pleased when he notices.

Carter arches back against him, squeezing tight around G’s knot just to feel his answering tremble. “That good,” he confirms.

“I’m getting too old for this,” G murmurs, fingers gentle against Carter’s flank, his chin hooked over Carter’s shoulder.

“You’re not that old,” Carter says, clasping his hand over G’s. “You can take it.”

G sets his teeth to Carter’s skin again, right into the meat of his shoulder, and Carter knows they’re not done yet, a new curl of heat already building before G’s knot has even had a chance to ease up.

They stay like that for a while, until G softens and pulls out with a shivery rush of wetness. G gets a towel, wipes them both down, and then collects his phone, calling in to alert the staff that they both need a leave from practice today for extenuating circumstances. Carter rolls out of the wet spot, stares up at the ceiling languidly, ankle pressed to G’s hip where he sits on the end of the bed, happier to be touching. G reaches back, fingers splaying over Carter’s calf, and that’s even better.

There’s not a pull to bond thankfully, that would make everything a disaster, but it’s easy affection and overwhelming instinctual attraction. It’s not going to be weird, Carter is pretty sure, after the hormones leave their system. Just a fling, a heat-fueled lust. G’s a good captain, a good alpha, he takes care of his omegas. Carter likes that.

Once he’s finished on the phone, he crawls back up the bed, looms over Carter. “I haven’t even kissed you yet,” he says, and Carter tilts his head back, waiting.

G’s gentle, cupping Carter’s face and kissing him lightly until Carter is chasing up into it, lips parted and wanting. G’s tongue just teases at him, and Carter groans, pushes G back until he’s sitting and climbs on top of him, kisses him deep and hard and long until G’s ready to go again, sinks down on him and rides him until his thighs give out and he needs to be held down again, pressed back into the pillows with G covering him over, broad shoulders and strong hips that Carter can really dig his fingers into.

He’s sore after the second knot, and he thinks he’s done, just a short, fleeting burst of unexpected heat but he wakes up in the middle of the night desperate again. G curses when Carter wakes him, nudging his hips back, needy, keeps cursing as he manhandles Carter around, not gentling Carter through it, rough and dirty, pounding into Carter until they’re both so exhausted they can’t imagine moving anymore.

It’s late morning by the time Carter wakes, stretching and groaning at the all over stiffness.

“Not too sore to play, I hope,” G says, and Carter glances up at him where he’s leaned back against the headboard.

His thigh is a steady point of pressure along Carter’s side, and Carter leans into it, grinning up at him. “Not a chance, old man.”

G snorts, ruffles his hand through Carter’s hair. “You better watch it.”

Carter rests his head against G’s thigh, takes stock of his body while G keeps working his fingers through Carter’s hair. It’s soothing and quiet. “Thanks,” Carter says, belatedly.

Heats, especially unexpected ones in the middle of the hockey season, are easier with an alpha. It would have been a long, painful night in a hotel room trying to deal with it on his own, worried that the door lock wouldn’t hold if some psycho could smell him and tried to get in. He’s dealt with heats in hotel rooms before, dealt with heats during the season, on the road, in a billet house. He could have, and would have, dealt with it on his own, but he wouldn’t have woken up in the morning like he did now, clear headed and settled.

“You don’t have to thank me, but please talk to the trainers about the stronger suppressors like I told you to.”

Carter looks up at him, confused, and then remembers essentially blanking out for an entire conversation after G had taken him into the empty room and gripped his neck. “Can you go over that again?” Carter asks meekly.

G sighs, acting annoyed but his hand never stops petting at Carter’s hair so he’s pretty sure it’s a front. “TK and Patty have zero chill collectively between them,” G explains, rolling his eyes. “TK scent marks everything he can reach, and Patty reeks of bonding pheromones. Any omega who is sensitive to scents that walks into our room gets clobbered over the head with their obnoxious mating ritual nonsense. The trainers have the good stuff on hand though, to suppress the heats those horny idiots induce.” He tugs on Carter’s hair lightly. “If you would have listened to me the first time.”

Carter doesn’t say he doesn’t regret it, but he thinks it, and he’s pretty sure G isn’t complaining. This feels like bonding, but in the hockey sense, like team bonding, not mates. Carter has always been close with his teammates and feeling this at ease with G is like a shoe in.

—

Things go well for Carter. There are ups and downs, it’s a tough season, but Carter feels good, comfortable. He’s told pretty quickly to find a place to stay, and he has all of about three seconds to panic about finding an apartment before Jakey swoops in and tells him he’s got just the place. It’s furnished, pretty much ready to go, and it’s huge, so nice.

“I can’t afford this,” Carter says, following Jake into yet another room.

Jake just laughs, shaking his head. He hooks his arm around Carter’s shoulders, starts to drag him back toward the door. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s go buy you something to sleep on.”

Carter eyes the perfectly good couch already there but Jake doesn’t leave him any choice. Jake drives them to the mattress store, makes Carter pick out a whole bedroom set, and tells the guy at the desk it needs to be delivered today.

It all happens so fast, Carter stuffing his suits from the tiny closet into garment bags, packing his underwear back into his suitcase, gathering up the various chargers scattered around his hotel room. The bed gets delivered, set up in what’s now his bedroom, in his apartment, all of his worldly possessions barely filling one corner of the whole place. Jake hands him the keys and Carter bows his head and looks up at Jake through his eyelashes, demure.

Jake snorts at him, rubs his hand over Carter’s head, rough but affectionate. “Absolutely not,” he says.

“But,” Carter starts. The apartment is so incredibly nice, too nice, too much, so much more than he needs, and Jake made him get a bed. It seems like Carter owes him, something. And this? This would be easy. Jake did give his opinion on Carter’s choice of bed, after all, made sure it got set up today. It seems suggestive, coming from an alpha, and Carter isn’t averse to it.

“No. Keep the place clean. Don’t break too many things.”

“I’m not going to break things,” Carter says, offended.

“Call me if you do. Don’t call me for anything else.”

Carter sighs, relenting at Jake’s tone. “Fine.”

“Yes, fine,” Jake agrees, cuffing Carter once more on the head, fond, laughing at him for his overeager willingness.

“Thanks,” Carter shouts after him as he walks down the hallway.

Jake flips him the finger over his shoulder, yells, “Don’t call me,” just before he rounds the corner and disappears.

Carter really loves his team.

—

The apartment makes suffering through injury a little bit easier. It’s too quiet and alone, and Carter spends a lot of time at the rink, training when he can and how he can without aggravating his injury, watching tape and preparing to get back out on the ice as soon as he gets the okay. But it’s better than going back to a hotel room, nice to have a place that’s all his, smells like home, a separate kitchen and living room and bedroom.

They fall out of playoff contention before the season really ends, and go out with a whimper, skidding through the losses and ending the season on an even sourer note. But Carter’s happy with what he did here. He’s got a lot to prove, he’s ready for it, and the city feels like home, he already can’t wait to get back to it.

He leaves his bed in Philly, a storage locker with a bedroom set in it, like some kind of grim kidnap set up. The rest of his shit fits in bags, and he packs it up and goes back to his actual home for the summer, finds a shitty apartment close to the gym to rent for a couple of months. He goes off his suppressors, ready for the heat of summer to burn through him. He makes his way down his contact list, finding out who’s still available. Then ends up suffering through his first heat, sweating it out in his apartment that doesn’t even have air conditioning, four fingers shoved so deep in himself he almost sprains his wrist. The second is barely a back scratch, some guy he remembers being better in juniors. By the time summer is officially winding down, his skin feels too tight for his body and he stares at G’s number in his phone for so long he almost overshoots it, playing it close.

G answers when Carter finally calls, asks him what’s up when Carter can’t even manage a normal conversation for a couple of minutes, almost choking on the need for him.

“Is there any chance you’re free for a few days?” he asks, voice high and reedy, shaking with it.

Being the end of summer, he knows G has to be busy, more important things to take care of before the season starts, but he sends Carter a text a couple of minutes after they hang up with his flight information. It’s only the next day, but by the time he gets in, Carter is already in the thick of it and G has to rent a car to get to his apartment.

“You look good,” G says when Carter literally wrenches the door open, slick with a layer of what he’s sure smells like pure desperation, and Carter drags him inside. G screws him bent over the kitchen table without anymore preamble, and then on the kitchen floor, skin sticking to the cheap hardwood, tacky with sweat and come.

“This can’t be a thing,” G tells him carefully, a full day later, the heat haze starting to clear so Carter can breathe again.

He hasn’t been this right all summer, and he can feel it in his bones, it’s going to be a good year. “It’s not a thing,” Carter promises him.

—

The news of Kevin signing comes early in the summer, and not long after that there’s an article about how Kevin said he’d only signed with the Flyers because they agreed to a ridiculously overpriced contract. Ghost pops the link into their team group chat along with _this fucking guy_ and a bunch of crying-laughing emojis. Carter ignores it, doesn’t read much press about the team because it’s usually just a bunch of over-dramatized crap anyway.

He gets Kevin’s number from G before he flies out, firing off a _welcome to the team_ text, and finding out if Kevin wants to meet up for lunch when Carter gets into Philly. Kevin uses a lot of exclamation points in his texts.

As it turns out, Kevin in general is a whole lot of exclamation points. He’s big and loud and doesn’t really understand personal space but he’s nice, friendly, easy to get along with, and most of the time, his jokes are actually worth laughing at. He can’t tell a funny story without wheezing his way through it, voice high and breathless with laughter, and Carter gets hooked on it, enamored with the way Kevin is effortlessly charming.

The first time he says Carter’s name in his obnoxious, thick Masshole accent, Carter’s stomach does a whole series of unsettled swoops and he frowns at the intensity of it. He thinks maybe it’s a fluke but Kevin keeps going with it and Carter has to keep trying to push down how it makes him feel.

It starts to be a thing, Kevin all but yelling, “Cahtah Haht, Cahtah Haht, getcha Cahtah Hahts heah!”

Carter approaches him after a practice to talk about it. He’s already changed back into his street clothes, first goalie off, but Kevin is just unlacing his skates, fresh off the ice. The room is half empty, guys still milling around, talking to trainers and each other. “Hey, Kevin,” Carter says as he walks up.

“What’s up?” Kevin asks, undivided attention focused up on Carter, his skates still mostly laced.

He could ask him here, not many guys around to overhear and get the wrong idea that Carter is being an uptight, weird asshole goalie or something. He doesn’t want to take the risk. “Could I speak to you in private?”

“Of course, bud, one second,” Kevin answers, easy as anything.

He gets his skates off, shucks his gear, and then he’s down to his under armor, clinging to him with sweat, and headed Carter’s way. Carter sucks in a breath, mutters, “fuck,” cursing himself for his poor situational awareness. He leads the way to an empty room, Kevin saying ‘hey’ to everyone they pass, doling out fistbumps. Carter hesitates and then shuts the door, closing them in together. He stays leaned against it, far away from where Kevin is digging through the medical staff's drawers and cupboards.

“Can you believe we’re a team with TK on it and there’s not even one lollipop in here? How do they get him to sit still for physicals?” he asks.

Carter laughs, surprised and genuinely amused.

Kevin looks pleased, rocking backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet. “So what’s up?”

Right. Carter had a point here. “Well, uh,” he starts, awkward. He makes it through post-game interviews after bad losses with perfect composure, he can do this. The media training he’s endured should serve him well. “It’s not a big deal or anything, but could you stop doing that thing you do with my name?”

Kevin’s eyebrows crinkle in confusion and he mouths the words back to himself, the same ones that Carter just said. “Oh,” he says, recognition dawning. “Cahtah, that’s just how I talk, bud.” The accent is affected even more deeply than usual.

Carter sighs out a breath through his nose, ignoring the horrendous way his stomach swoops and just how blue Kevin’s eyes are when he’s staring right at him. “I know, and that’s _fine_, I was just wondering if you could stop with the whole yelling thing? You know, when you…” He waves his hand vaguely, unwilling to imitate Kevin’s Boston accent or nasally deep voice or booming volume or _anything_. Kevin has to know what he means.

“Everyone’s got their thing. Like, it’s kind of a ritual for me. That’s just what I do,” he explains. “You really don’t like it?” Kevin asks gently, speaking softer than Carter has ever heard him speak since meeting him, eyes going wide, bluer somehow.

His stomach sinks, and he stops to question himself, _am I being an asshole_? Kevin looks hurt at Carter not appreciating his hypeman routine, and that wasn’t his intention at all. All he wants is for Kevin to stop shouting his name like that all the time. Because it’s the opposite of what Kevin is thinking. It’s not that Carter doesn’t like it. He likes it too much. “It’s fine, I guess,” Carter appeases, picking at his nails so he doesn’t have to look at Kevin being sad at him anymore.

“Oh, it’s fine now, is it?”

Carter glances up, and Kevin has moved closer, standing just a couple of steps away. “It’s whatever,” Carter says, shrugging a shoulder and cringing inwardly at his lack of eloquence. Kevin smirks like he suddenly knows exactly how he makes Carter feel. He probably does, Carter realizes, swallowing thickly as Kevin takes another step toward him. He palms the side of Carter’s neck, and Carter refuses to break eye contact, refuses to turn his face into Kevin’s wrist that’s right there, a pulse point, smelling so strongly of _Kevin_ and begging for Carter to taste it.

“I’ll stop if you really want me to, Carter,” Kevin utters lowly, accent dripping thick and slow from his mouth, the words sounding heavy with how they roll off his tongue.

Carter’s head thunks back against the door behind him, heat rushing through his body, all the way down to his toes, up to the roots of his hair. He’s still taking the strong suppressants from the trainers just to be safe, so he can’t go into heat on his monthly cycle, or be thrown into one unexpectedly by an overblown attraction, or even coerced into one by any of his stupid horny teammates. But it doesn’t stop the urge, thrumming hot under his skin, churning deep in his gut. If he could get wet right now, he would.

“Careful,” Kevin whispers, palming the back of Carter’s head with his other hand, protecting it from the door. He thinks of G fleetingly, and gets hit with the reality of how different this is with Kevin.

Carter looks up to meet his eyes again, and his pupils are blown wide. It makes his thighs tremble, his knees quake with the urge to get down and bury his face in Kevin’s groin, where he’d smell the strongest. He’s all sweaty from practice, and maybe it should be gross, but it makes Carter want him more. He can smell Kevin already with how he’s got him caged in against the door, inside this closed off room, and he smells _good_. Like a mate.

Kevin brushes his thumb over the skin below Carter’s ear, and that nearly does it, almost topples him right down, but the door starts to push open and Kevin wraps his arms around him, defensively swinging Carter out of the way so it won’t hit him. Kevin steps away almost as quickly as he’d swept in. Carter leans a grounding palm on the cool wall behind him, sucks in a deep breath.

“Sorry guys, clear out, we need the room,” the trainer says, bustling past them.

“No worries, boss,” Kevin says and ducks through the doorway, disappearing down the hall toward the locker room.

G is standing outside the room when Carter steps out, eyebrows raised. Carter tries to go around him but G follows his movement, leaning close and taking a whiff. A laugh bursts out before he can smother it and Carter glares.

“Uh oh, kid,” he says, not trying as hard as Carter wishes he would to hide his amusement.

“Shut _up_,” Carter mutters darkly, booking it out of there.

—

It really only gets worse from there.

“Cahtah Haht, Cahtah Haht, goin once, goin twice, sold, Cahtah Haht.”

“We gotta live one heah tahnight, folks, the one, the only, Cahtah Haht.”

“Make way for Hahtsy. No autographs, no flash photography, live and in color, it’s Cahtah Haht. ”

“Cahtah Haht, hot tendy comin through, Cahtah Haht.”

Carter is sitting in his stall, repetitively bouncing a ball from hand to hand, when G squeezes in next to him. Carter doesn’t stop what he’s doing until G leans closer, sniffing at him.

“What,” Carter demands, annoyed at the interruption.

G doesn’t say anything, just leans behind Carter and sniffs again. Carter turns to watch him as he reaches into the back corner of Carter’s stall and pulls out a crumpled up pair of underwear, holding them out by one dainty finger.

They’re Kevin’s, Carter can tell by smell alone which had definitely been the point. Carter knew they were there, Kevin’s scent permeating the area around his stall for a couple of days, but he hadn’t bothered to move them. The intention of the act is clear, a scent mark for Carter and anyone else who got close to Carter’s stall. Not a claim, not a show of possession or warning for anyone to stay away, just a reminder that Kevin is there. Carter likes it, likes the way it makes him focus in and calms him down.

G raises an eyebrow in question, and Carter faces forward again, ignoring him. He feels G lean back again, dropping the underwear into the far corner behind Carter’s gear where he found them. He palms Carter’s neck gently, slides his fingers into the hair at the back of his skull and Carter leans into it, familiar and comforting. “I can talk to him if it’s a problem.”

“It’s not,” Carter assures him quietly.

Kevin comes barreling around the corner a second later, doesn’t even hesitate before pushing in on the other side of Carter. Carter ends up crammed between the two of them, bookended in. He doesn’t realize G’s hand has left his neck until Kevin’s is there to replace it, steady and strong.

“We showing our goalie some love?” he asks. He rubs his fingers right into the base of Carter’s neck, where he’s sore, and it feels so good Carter can almost feel the purr building.

“Always,” G says. He’s standing, backed away slightly, and it leaves just Kevin to post him up. He’s a solid body to lean against and Carter does. “I think he deserves to be taken out for dinner, don’t you?”

“For sure, for sure. I’ll get a reservation. You coming with, G?” Kevin’s already got his phone out, scrolling through to get the call put in.

“No, I’ve got someplace to be.”

Carter glances up at G and he winks. Carter flushes, suddenly catching onto the fact that this was his plan. If Carter didn’t want Kevin to back off, then it was time to move it along. Goddamn nosy bastard. Fucking alphas.

“What sounds good, Carts, anything you want?” Kevin asks after G stops hovering over them and ducks out.

Carter leans back into his hand to get him to start rubbing again. “I just want tacos.”

Kevin pockets his phone, really gets to working at Carter’s neck with his thumb. “That’s perfect, I fucking love tacos.”

—

Letting Kevin host the team Halloween party is maybe the worst idea anyone has had since letting TK mix the drinks at the end of the season party last spring. Up to that point, Carter had never been so drunk, and later hungover, in his life.

When Carter arrives at Kevin’s, he walks through the door, takes one breath, and turns around and walks right back out again, sucking in deep lungfuls of the crisp fall air outside. He forgot how intense Patty and TK are, now that Patty isn’t in the room as much with the team while he gets better. How the hell does Kevin stand it? The house smells like so much sex, it’s as if the bonding pheromones are bleeding from the walls. Not to mention the undercurrent of Kevin under it all, throwing another layer onto it for Carter to struggle through. No, thank you.

He’s made it to the street corner, about to open up the Lyft app to get a ride home—he assumed he’d be drinking tonight—when Kevin catches up to him. “Hey, is everything all right? I saw you come in and then you just disappeared,” Kevin says. Carter catches sight of him and immediately bursts out laughing. Kevin grins. “You like? Teeks did my hair.”

That tracks. His hair is half up in a ponytail high on his head. He’s wearing a Patriots jersey, Tom Brady. He looks like a fucking idiot. “Are you trying to get murdered?”

Solemnly, Kevin plucks at the jersey. “There are Pats fans everywhere, baby. But seriously, are you okay? Where are you going?”

“I’m fine. I’m just going to head home.”

Kevin’s face falls, a frown etching deep on his mouth and a matching one in his forehead. “Oh. You didn’t even come in and say hi to anyone.”

Carter shifts, awkward. He could lie, but he doesn’t really have any logical reason not to just tell him. “The, uh, smell. It’s a lot.”

“You’re sensitive to it?” At Carter’s nod, he says, “I didn’t know that,” like he’s keeping track of facts, an index card he’s got for insight about Carter that he’s tucking away, saving for later. “I can drive you home, at least.”

“It’s your party, Kevin, come on. Don’t worry about it.”

“Patty can handle it, he’s got TK to help out. Let me grab my keys and I’ll take you home.”

“I think TK helping makes it worse,” Carter mutters, but relents, following Kevin’s tugging on the sleeve of his coat back toward the door.

He waits outside, unwilling to go in again. He hopes everyone else at the party is already bonded or at least not sensitive to scents because their team is going to be desecrated if any of the omega rookies are under the literal scent cloud that is Patty and TK’s sex nest. While he waits, he thinks about firing a warning text off to G, a chirp that if he was too old to knot Carter up, he’s definitely too old for the several rookies in heat that are about to fall in his lap.

“What are you smiling about?” Kevin asks when he steps back out, arm looping around Carter’s waist to guide him across the street toward his car. Carter just shakes his head, but can’t shake the smile, deeply amused at the thought of G being overwhelmed by a bunch of needy boys in heat. “What are you supposed to be anyway?” Kevin questions, walking backwards in front of Carter to grip the edges of Carter’s coat and hold it open, looking at him.

“Logan. Like Wolverine, from X-Men?” He already had the leather jacket, the deep cut, tight white tank underneath, dark wash jeans. He didn’t bother taping any props to his hands, and lord knows he never could have grown or pulled off the facial hair, so it’s mostly just the outfit. It’s a little boring, not a lot of effort, but Logan’s from Alberta, Carter’s from Alberta. It seemed like a good fit.

“You look hot.” Kevin’s hand burns a path up Carter’s side underneath his jacket and Carter licks his lips, wanting.

“Thanks,” he says thickly. Kevin keeps his hand tucked under Carter’s coat, a hot palm print against Carter’s side, and Carter knocks into him, tucking himself right under Kevin’s arm as they make their way to the car. Kevin gets the car unlocked, holds the door open for Carter to get in but boxes Carter up against the opening before he has the chance.

“I’m trying to be good,” Kevin breathes, hand coming up to grip the back of Carter’s neck, tilting his head back. His mouth is right there and Carter leans into the pressure, almost touching.

“For what?” Carter asks.

Kevin chuckles, deep and dark, lips grazing Carter’s jaw as he dips in closer. Carter arches his head back further, pressing his neck up to Kevin’s mouth. “That’s a good question,” he says, and Carter shudders at the feeling of his lips ghosting the words against his skin.

Kevin keeps his nose pressed to the pulse point in his throat, breathing deeply, scenting him. Carter’s hands finally get with the program and unclench from his sides, dragging Kevin in closer to him, getting himself notched right up against the angles of Kevin’s body. He knows what he must smell like to Kevin, given how Kevin smells to him. Like mate. Like a bond waiting to happen. Unless his biology is all fucked, this is what all the books were screaming about when they said he’d know when he found the one.

Alphas almost always smell good, but only Kevin smells like this. Like home. Like some intricate, inexplicable certainty that assures him unequivocally _he’s mine_.

Carter turns his head, pressing his lips to the scratchy stubble of Kevin’s beard, trying to duck down to catch his mouth, and Kevin meets him there. Kevin kisses him hard, hands clasped tight around the back of Carter’s neck, the back of his head, pulling him into it. The drag of their lips, catching and holding, slotting together perfectly, lights a fire in Carter. It’s not the desperation of heat, but it’s a simmer all its own, a need he hasn’t felt before. Not a need for just anyone, not a need for an alpha, but a need for Kevin.

“Take me home,” he gasps, and Kevin groans into his mouth, dipping his tongue inside, a tease, a taste. “We can’t do this here.” Kevin’s house is right there, but the thought of the others’ scents mingling with theirs makes Carter sick. He wants Kevin in his bed. He wants his sheets, his room, his entire apartment to stink of them, together.

Like fucking Patty and TK, the hedonists, making everything they touch smell like _them_, bound, tied, knotted, forever.

Carter clutches at Kevin’s sides, pushing him away and pulling him closer in turns. Kevin steps back, and it feels like a loss. “Get in,” he says. It’s the first time Carter has ever heard him use his alpha tone, and he shivers, clambering to obey.

Kevin climbs into the driver’s side, and Carter hears the steering wheel creak with how tightly he grips it. He types the address into the GPS, not trusting himself to remember directions right now and not wanting any detours.

The apartment isn’t much, not like the place Jake let him live last season, and not like Kevin’s place, but it’s his. It’s small but it’s homey, and it smells like him and that’s all he wants right now. Just him and Kevin, no distractions, no outside forces.

He rushes Kevin as soon as they’re through the door, kissing him, shoving his jacket off his shoulders. Kevin gets the door closed behind him, the lock thrown. He backs Carter further into the room, but abruptly stops kissing him. “I thought I could wait for the end of the season,” he says, jaw clenching, eyes squeezing shut like he’s in pain at the idea.

“That’s so long,” Carter tells him. His fingertips tingle as he drags them over Kevin’s stubbled jaw, up to his hair, pulling the stupid ponytail out. He scrubs his fingers through Kevin’s hair, trying to push it down where it’s still standing up but it’s a lost cause and he goes for Kevin’s jersey next. “Take this off.”

Kevin stops him. “Maybe I want to leave it on,” he says, canting his hips forward into Carter’s.

“No. You’re not fucking me with that on.”

Kevin grins, holding the jersey down where Carter is doing his best to pull it up off him. “What if I want to?”

Carter frowns at him until Kevin gives in and drags it over his head, drops it on the floor. Sacrilege. Fuck Tom Brady. Carter kicks it further away and buries his face into Kevin’s chest, his neck, breathing him in. Kevin holds him there, grip on the back of his neck just tight enough to make Carter weak in the knees.

“You know what this is, right?” Kevin asks.

Carter licks at him, sucks on his collarbones and his chest and his throat, up under his jaw where he smells so good and across his broad shoulders, back down to the crook of his arm, nosing into the heavy scent of his body. Kevin gently pulls him away, cupping his face.

“Listen, this is serious.” Carter turns his face into his wrist, mouthing the thin skin there. The taste of him, the scent, is intoxicating. “You’re impossible,” Kevin grumbles, trying to turn Carter’s face back toward him to get him to focus. Carter sways into him, letting him take his weight, drunk on the anticipation of what’s to come.

“I know what this is.”

“And you want that?” Kevin presses.

“_Yes_,” Carter sighs, emphatic. He’s pretty sure he’s never wanted something so much in his life, except maybe hockey. Kevin is his mate, he knows it deep down to his core. Bonding isn’t going to change anything about him intricately. He’ll still be Carter, but with a mate. Maybe a little more focused, maybe a little more sure with a bond there to back him up. Finding his mate isn’t something he thought hard about, but it’s been a lingering thing in the back of his mind, like it is for every other omega. Hockey has always been his main goal, but some people spend their whole life searching for their mate and never find the one. Carter is lucky to have his, and that it’s someone like Kevin, a teammate. He couldn’t imagine anything better.

And maybe things will get hard sometimes, but Carter feels pretty sure he’s going to be a big piece of this team moving forward, and the ink on Kevin’s shiny contract has barely dried yet, it’s so new. They both have a future here, in this city, on this team, with each other. Through it all, they’ll have each other and that’s a certainty Carter can lean into.

He reaches down and pops the fly open on Kevin’s jeans, pushing his hand inside. Carter groans, forehead knocking into his chest when he feels the thick base of Kevin’s cock under his fingertips, knot already firming up. “I’ve never taken a knot without being in heat,” he says, breathless. “I won’t be able to stop the suppressants until we have a break. Bye week. Christmas, maybe, if we can make a plan.”

Kevin tilts Carter’s head back to look at him. “You don’t have to. You can fuck me.”

Carter groans again, squeezes at Kevin’s knot lightly. “I’ve never fucked an alpha.”

Kevin’s voice is a rasp, a growl when he says, “Guess you’ve had some boring alphas.”

“Guess so,” Carter breathes, surging up to kiss him before getting to his knees, face pressed into the cut of Kevin’s hip as he works his pants and underwear down. Seeing his cock hard, knot swollen, makes Carter’s mouth water. He sucks at the knot from the side, licks all around it, working the rest of Kevin’s cock in his hand, and then switches, taking his cock into his mouth as deep as he can, squeezing at his knot when he can’t quite fit it between his lips. He tries, and keeps trying, choking with Kevin cock halfway down his throat, while Kevin pets at his hair, fights to keep his hips still, hissing through Carter’s eager efforts.

“You’re gonna have to stop that,” Kevin gasps, easing Carter off him. Carter can feel the drool on his chin, mouth sore from being stretched. He pulls his shirt off, wiping himself off and tossing it to the side. He doesn’t get up, staying there on his knees. He tries to get Kevin’s cock in his mouth again but Kevin holds him off. Carter turns his head, sucks Kevin’s fingers instead, two deep into his mouth. “Jesus, if you’re this demanding when you’re not in heat, what are you like when you are in heat?”

Carter pulls off the ends of his fingers, looks up at him and grins. “Guess you’ll find out.” His voice is rough, raw with use.

“Guess so,” Kevin says, the same words and the same breathy tone that Carter had used, and Carter bites at his palm, mouthy. “We really should talk about this more.”

“You talk too much,” Carter tells him, which is simply the truth.

“You can shut me up any way you want to.”

“Any way I want?” Carter asks.

Kevin grumbles, pulls him up to kiss him. “You look so sweet but you’re fucking trouble. I should have known.”

“Come on, I’m shutting you up,” Carter says, tugging him back toward the bedroom.

Kevin gets him the rest of the way out of his clothes, shoving him down on the bed to free his legs from his pants. Carter rolls over, up on his knees, and glances over his shoulder. “Oh, fuck yeah,” Kevin says, climbing up on the bed behind him. He kisses down the length of Carter’s back, mixing in a bite once he gets to the top of Carter’s ass. His teeth drag along the sensitive skin of Carter’s inner cheeks, and Carter gasps, arching into it. His tongue is hot, wet, soothing over the sting. “Can’t wait to taste you when you’re dripping wet for me.”

Carter flushes hot, wishes he was in heat right now, as Kevin licks at his hole, spreading him open wide and rubbing his ass tender with his beard. Kevin doesn’t do anything by halves, sucking on the skin below Carter’s hole until it feels swollen and bruised, thumbs tugging at his rim to lick inside, pressing into him sloppy wet with spit. Carter feels sensitive all over, almost like he is in heat.

“Where’s the lube?” Kevin asks, leaning back, thumb still tucked inside Carter’s hole.

Carter turns his face out of the blanket, gasps out, “Drawer.” And then, “No condom.”

Kevin groans, pushes his thumb into Carter further as he reaches across the bed for the drawer. “Over, babe,” he says, tapping Carter on the hip and slipping his finger out. Carter whimpers at the loss, but goes, falling back into the pillows.

Kevin makes a grabby motion, and Carter passes him a pillow. He gets it shoved under Carter’s hips, settles himself between Carter’s legs, one of his thighs pushed wide, and licks gently at his hole. Carter feels hyperaware, hearing the lube cap flick open, feeling every single hair on Kevin’s chin against his skin, his own overly loud breathing hitching and catching, his cock leaking hot onto his belly, the wet sound and feel of Kevin licking broad strokes over his opening. Two slick fingers push into him, slow and easy, as Kevin sucks bruises into his inner thigh. He hooks them up, pressing right into Carter’s prostate, and all that hypersensitivity turns inward, fixed right there where Kevin’s fingers are, the sound sucked out of the room with Carter’s high gasp.

He tugs at the sheets, and then at Kevin’s hair when he sucks Carter’s cock into his mouth. Carter can feel the quiver all the way down into his knees, tension building sharply. He doesn’t get a chance to work up to it, Kevin’s fingers insistent, rubbing from the inside, and his mouth an endless soft, hot suck. He comes, almost bowing off the bed with the force of it.

“Fuck,” he hears himself say shakily, realizing he’s nearly pulling Kevin’s hair out by the roots. “Fuck, sorry.” He eases up, rubs at Kevin’s scalp in apology while Kevin kisses messily over his stomach, where Carter is still quivering.

“S’all good.” He sounds as drunk as Carter feels.

Carter tries to draw him up, but Kevin takes his time making his way up Carter’s body, kissing his way over Carter’s hips, his sides, his chest, stopping to lick at his nipples, teeth grazing them lightly, followed by his beard as he rubs his face around Carter’s chest.

“C’mon,” Carter grumbles. It just makes Kevin go slower, kissing every inch of his shoulders, his neck.

Once they’re finally face to face, he doesn’t even let Carter kiss him, just says, “You almost turned yourself inside out with that one.”

“That was all you.”

“I know,” Kevin says, smug, a pleased little grin playing at his lips.

Carter huffs to cover the laugh threatening, sets his teeth into Kevin’s grin until he gives in and kisses Carter like he wants. Between the kiss, Carter being able to taste himself on Kevin’s tongue, and Kevin laying all of his weight down on top of Carter, he can almost feel a purr starting to kick up. But he’s still focused on the hard press of Kevin’s cock against his hip, knot fat and unsatisfied, and he’s not going to be happy until that’s taken care of.

“Are you going to fuck me?” he asks, closing his thighs around Kevin’s hips, grinding up against him as much as he can with Kevin’s weight pinning him.

“Maybe,” Kevin replies like it’s the least of his worries. His cock betrays him, a solid kick between them.

“Hmm, seems like you’re going to fuck me,” he says, rolling his hips into another firm tap at the words _fuck me_.

“You need to be wetter if you want my knot.”

“I can take it, I want it.”

“I never would have guessed,” Kevin says, kissing the sore corners of Carter’s mouth where he’d tried to fit it in earlier. He pushes up onto his knees, spreads Carter’s thighs apart. “Let me see what I’m working with.”

“Did you not see it enough already?” Carter grumbles, and inexplicably blushes as though Kevin hasn’t spent the better part of the last hour with his tongue and his fingers inside of him.

“It’s very important.” Kevin grins, slicking his fingers up again, pressing three in.

“God,” Carter groans. It’s a stretch, Kevin’s fingers are big, thick knuckled, and long, but it doesn’t take him much to get used to, all three in him as deep as they’ll go. “Okay, come on, I’m ready.”

Kevin doesn’t fight him, pulls his fingers out and slicks up his cock, gripping Carter’s thighs as he pushes forward. He doesn’t bottom out, exactly, just goes as far as his knot will let him, bumping at Carter’s rim. It’ll take some force to get it in, so thick and firm now that Carter knows it has to hurt, and knows that it’s going to hurt to get it in, stretching his hole.

“Fuck, Kevin, harder, come on,” he urges, heels digging into Kevin’s back.

Kevin lays into him, hips snapping brutally. Carter can’t do more than cling to him and take it, moans punched out of him with every thrust. The knot is a solid reminder of what Carter will be getting every time Kevin nudges in deep. Carter grinds up into it when it’s there to feel, spreading himself on it further every time until Kevin pins him down with a bruising grip on his hips.

“Are you ready, it’s gonna—”

Carter doesn’t let him finish, fingers digging into his back as he pants, “Yeah, yeah, come on.”

His thrusts falter, going choppy as he pumps into Carter in short bursts. He can feel it, pushing at him and he bears down, slicking a hand between them to jerk himself off. It makes him sob, the air choking right out of him at the thick stretch, feeling too big to open around. Then it’s in, and he clenches reflexively while Kevin grunts, hips twitching mercilessly as he comes. Carter gets off on it too, the overwhelming fullness, clamped down like a vice on his knot.

He couldn’t move if he wanted to, Kevin’s weight crushing him down against the bed. The purr is already building, content as he is under Kevin’s heavy body, boneless in a post-orgasm haze. The knot feels different outside of heat, almost painful in its fullness rather than comforting his body’s need, but it’s a good hurt. Carter shudders as Kevin shifts against him, knot tugging with every minuscule movement.

“You okay?” he questions, voice a deep rumble.

“Yeah,” Carter sighs, hands sliding down Kevin’s back. He doesn’t want them to ever move. They could just stay like this forever, Kevin could keep him here like this all the time, and that would be okay with Carter. Keep fucking him until Carter smelled more like Kevin than himself, full to bursting with his come.

It’s the bonding hormones, he realizes a second later, instinct running deep, wanting to never leave this bed. He smells it, thick around them. The purr rips through him, stronger than normal, and Kevin presses his palm between them, flat to Carter’s chest where it’s reverberating from within him.

“That’s nice,” he says.

Carter agrees, sucking in the smell of them covetously. It’s all new, his scent has never mixed with someone’s like this. It’s dizzying to think that’s them now, that bonded pheromone-rich flavor that’ll linger wherever they go. “Can you smell it?” Carter asks.

“I’ve never been sensitive to it, but I can with you.”

Carter clasps his fingers into Kevin’s hair, tilts his head up to kiss him. Kevin knocks the air right out of him, somehow pressing his knot deeper with a tilt of his hips. “I hope your family won’t mind not seeing you at Christmas,” Carter tells him, squeezing tight around Kevin like a promise. Heats are going to be a whole new beast with a mate, days spent burning up in bed together with Kevin. Carter can hardly wait.

“I guess they’ll have to get used to it,” Kevin reasons.

Carter grins, says one last time, “Guess so.”

**Author's Note:**

> This absolutely is not going to become a series, these are just some super extra thots to chew on:
> 
> *TK can smell when Patty has a migraine coming on and he tries to reboot Patty's system by flooding him with pheromones. It only works about a quarter of the time but TK never stops trying, he's such an overeager helpful alpha, wow.
> 
> *a bunch of the rookies do end up in rough desperate heat because that TK/Patty sex cloud is powerful stuff, and G doesn't have enough hands or knots to deal with all of them, poor guy, whatever will he do.
> 
> and finally,  
*G has an open bond with Danny that's never been closed because Danny is waiting for G to retire. G's captaincy is too important, his commitment to lead the team, an alpha for the omegas to fall back on, it has to be his priority. Danny can be patient, he can wait for G to be done, Danny will be there when the only omega G needs to worry about anymore is him.
> 
> Don't @ me, I don't even go here, okay.


End file.
